This goes along with something I posted a few days ago.
[Words of My Heart]
What are words anyway, if they are not abstract in themselves? For this they are.
My words, to the analytical mind, are not impossible to understand. The meaning is hidden in plain sight. Yet not hidden. They are seen by the eyes of the soul and heard with the ears of the heart. The reason for this, is because that is the place from which they arise. It is their true home.
So, as we ourselves might understand the term 'earth bound misfit', this is also true of the stirrings within my heart and spirit. Their aches and pains. Their triumphs and pleasures.
If my spirit is of another place and time, why not so with the words of that spirit that is within me. Or no... not within me, but that which I am?
Rachelle LeCount
January 2012
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“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Pregnant Onion & Ginseng Root
I was showing a friend some snapshots of a few of my favorite houseplants and figured I'd post a few here.
The above is Ginseng Root. I'm supposing it's a sort of miniature or bonsai, but I'm not entirely sure. I found it at Walmart, nearly dead, marked down to around a dollar. Or it might have been less. I put it in a fresh pot of soil and nursed it back to health. I think it's pretty cool.
This next shot if of a very old Pregnant Onion. There are two in the picture but one (the larger of the two) was part of a potted arrangement of mixed succulents from something like 15-16 years ago. Or more. A long time anyway. It almost died on several occasions but I managed to revive it and finally one of its babies took root and has been growing alongside it.
I'm definitely no expert when it comes to houseplants but I do very much enjoy having them around. I've never quite felt like home is home without some houseplants and at least one of something living in water - fish or turtles.
Now, I'll share a song by Dan Fogelberg. It doesn't have to do with houseplants in a direct sort of way but it's a tender song about the earth and living creatures.
"A Cry in the Forest"
(About Mother Earth and all of it's gentle creatures)
There`s a cry in the forest, it`s feathered and brown
And it echoes off of nothing as the trees come down
It`s the sound of a sparrow hittin` the ground
It`s the sound of one eternity bound
It`s the sound of one eternity bound
There`s a cry in the oceans, it`s plaintive and blue
And it rises from the depths, breaks my heart in two
It`s the dreams of the great whales running aground
For they know that they`re eternity bound
For they know that they`re eternity bound
Whoa eternity bound
Once they`ve passed into the timeless, they can never more be found
Is there anybody listening, tell me can you hear the sound
Of the gentle ones eternity bound
Of the gentle ones eternity bound
There`s a cry in the heart of every woman and man
We`ve been crying in the darkness since the world began
Will we ever seek forgiveness, will we ever earn the crown
Or are we in turn eternity bound
Or are we in turn eternity bound
Whoa eternity bound
Once we`ve past into the timeless, we can never more be found
Is there anybody listening, tell me can you hear the sound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
The above is Ginseng Root. I'm supposing it's a sort of miniature or bonsai, but I'm not entirely sure. I found it at Walmart, nearly dead, marked down to around a dollar. Or it might have been less. I put it in a fresh pot of soil and nursed it back to health. I think it's pretty cool.
This next shot if of a very old Pregnant Onion. There are two in the picture but one (the larger of the two) was part of a potted arrangement of mixed succulents from something like 15-16 years ago. Or more. A long time anyway. It almost died on several occasions but I managed to revive it and finally one of its babies took root and has been growing alongside it.
I'm definitely no expert when it comes to houseplants but I do very much enjoy having them around. I've never quite felt like home is home without some houseplants and at least one of something living in water - fish or turtles.
Now, I'll share a song by Dan Fogelberg. It doesn't have to do with houseplants in a direct sort of way but it's a tender song about the earth and living creatures.
"A Cry in the Forest"
(About Mother Earth and all of it's gentle creatures)
There`s a cry in the forest, it`s feathered and brown
And it echoes off of nothing as the trees come down
It`s the sound of a sparrow hittin` the ground
It`s the sound of one eternity bound
It`s the sound of one eternity bound
There`s a cry in the oceans, it`s plaintive and blue
And it rises from the depths, breaks my heart in two
It`s the dreams of the great whales running aground
For they know that they`re eternity bound
For they know that they`re eternity bound
Whoa eternity bound
Once they`ve passed into the timeless, they can never more be found
Is there anybody listening, tell me can you hear the sound
Of the gentle ones eternity bound
Of the gentle ones eternity bound
There`s a cry in the heart of every woman and man
We`ve been crying in the darkness since the world began
Will we ever seek forgiveness, will we ever earn the crown
Or are we in turn eternity bound
Or are we in turn eternity bound
Whoa eternity bound
Once we`ve past into the timeless, we can never more be found
Is there anybody listening, tell me can you hear the sound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Words of My Heart
The words of my heart, are droplets that fall upon linen.
They are the tears of rainbows and the twinkling eyes of the stars.
They are splashes of pleas and dotted lines that connect my soul with eternity.
They are love, splattered across a canvas wall.
They are questions that melt like wax crayons heated by the sun.
They are photographs, framed slightly askew.
They are as a cork released from the bottle it seals.
They are the colors of an artists pallet, swirled together, not yet one.
They are the chiseling of the sculptor, revealing what is hidden beneath.
They are the scents in a garden of many flowers.
They are blood and breath. They are water against stone.
These are the words of my heart.
Rachelle LeCount
January 16, 2012
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Sunday, January 8, 2012
Braided Rug Project
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